Nothing At All
by Merccy
Summary: He can't always be there to protect her. [JS] [Completed]
1. Chapter One

  
My first Without a Trace WiP. Unbeta'd. This chapter's shorter than the rest. I don't own or am in any way affiliated with CBS or this show. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. And since I lack the ability to make any more complex sentences at this hour of the morning: enjoy.

-

_Drift away into nothing at all _

_Find the grace to be nothing at all _

_Fade away and end up nothing at all _

-Rob Dougan, Nothing at All

-

. . . _Sam? _

The warehouse is dark, and he can barely see past his own gun, drawn and positioned in front of his body as he carefully makes his way through the building. Her footsteps echo in his ears ever so slightly, assuring him she's all right despite the fact that he cannot see her. Ahead of him, light glows from beyond a door, trying to make its way out from behind the door through the spaces between the wall and the doorjamb like a beast trying to escape its cage.

As she is finally visible to him, her eyes and body language signal that she's going to open it. She stands next to the door, perilously close to the danger beyond it. He tries to reach out and stop her but he suddenly feels like he's a thousand miles away, able to identify her every facial feature but unable to prevent her from opening the door.

Before he can gather the strength to move -- as hard as he tries, his legs just won't carry him any closer to her -- her hand grasps the doorknob and there's a sudden crash. And a gunshot.

_Sam? Oh, God. _

_Sam? _

-

"Wake up." A voice commanded him, and gradually Jack awoke from his slumber. Maria was sitting beside him, her voice impatient and her eyes alert and focused, even at the early hour of the morning. "Wake up, Jack."

Her voice sounded cold to him. "What's the matter?" He yawned as he watched her rise and pull on her robe.

Maria sharply uttered, "You were saying her name again," before heading into the bathroom and closing the door firmly behind her. Jack sighed, slowly rising from the bed. He had been plagued by these nightmares for about a week now, ever since the SWAT team had been called in to deal with Kevin Grant and the hostage situation. All he could do at night was lay awake and replay the events of the bookstore from all those months ago, and see Sam and the blood that was everywhere . . .

Maria would have called it post-traumatic stress disorder, had he told her. She liked to diagnose people and find a medical term for their problems, which annoyed him. You couldn't put a scientific label on the something he and Sam had together and why it was making him feel like this.

-

"I'll have an espresso and one of those chocolate chip scone things. They're really good, especially if you get there just as they've taken them out of the oven and they're all hot and chocolate-y -- "

"Martin, it's seven in the morning. I'll get you a latté and a blueberry muffin." Vivian rolled her eyes at her co-worker as they sat in the office. "The last thing we need is you on a sugar rush."

Sam entered, placing her bag on the floor next to her chair. "'Morning."

"'Morning," grumbled Martin, irritated at Vivian's refusal to meet his sugary requests. "Where's Jack?"

"I don't track his every movement, you know."

"Glad to see we're all cheerful this morning." Danny observed as he hurried into the room. "And we're all here before Jack. That has to be some sort of record."

Vivian headed downstairs to grab coffee for herself and Martin, passing Jack on her way. Noticing that he was the last to arrive, Jack hastily offered a "Sorry I'm late" to the rest of his team before joining them at the table where they were gathered.

"Tricia Elliot, age eight." Jack began passing around case files, allowing his co-workers to briefly scan through the details of their missing person. "She was last seen last night before she went to bed. Parents woke up this morning and she's gone. It's presumably a kidnapping -- the window to her bedroom was broken from the outside and there are signs of a struggle in her room."

"The parents didn't hear anything?" Danny asked incredulously as Vivian returned with the coffees and a muffin for Martin, who looked at the pastry with disgust before taking a large bite of it anyway.

"Apparently not," Sam answered.

Unlike Martin, Vivian, was ignoring her coffee in order to scan through the file. "Weren't there two other kidnappings like this one in two other towns before?" he asked, prompting Jack to nod. Immediately the atmosphere became tenser as Vivian stiffened in her seat.

"Sam, you check for any similarities between this case and the two others -- see if there are any links between them." As Samantha rose to get to work on her computer, Jack continued: "Danny, you and Martin go interview the family. Vivian, I'd like to have a word."

After the rest of the team had dispersed, Jack led Vivian into his office. "I know those other two kidnapping cases affected you personally -- " he began.

"I'm not a rookie, Jack." She interrupted him sternly. "I know how to handle a case, and I'd just like to make sure we're not responsible for another child's death this time around."

"_If _it is the same guy. Trying to convince me you won't go berserk on a witness again by immediately leaping to conclusions probably isn't the wisest decision."

She sighed. "What do you want me to do? Transfer to another case?"

"If you have to, you will. Just try not to get too wrapped up in this again, or you'll be sifting through cold cases for the remainder of this investigation."

Vivian nodded and silently exited his office. Sitting behind his desk, Jack could see Sam at work on her computer, checking and cross-referencing in the safety of the office. But no matter how safe she was now, he knew he'd be having the same nightmare tonight, and eventually that nightmare would become a reality. She would rebel and he'd be forced to put her back out in the field, using half-excuses about the trauma she must still be dealing with as a last resort to her going back to her real job.

Until then, he would just have to try to save someone else.


	2. Chapter Two

I don't own _Without a Trace _or am in any way affiliated with it. Thanks to **illman **for being a terrific beta! Enjoy.

-

"You don't remember seeing _anyone _suspicious? Maybe someone you know was acting strangely?"

"No," Kevin Elliot said, one arm around his wife's back. He looked distraught, and Martin couldn't help but feel that his questions were coming across harsher than he intended them to sound. Whoever wrote the FBI handbook evidently didn't take into consideration the emotional turmoil that accompanied cases. "There was no one."

Danny's eyes reflected the sympathy Martin wished he could express as he asked, "Would you mind telling us what happened yesterday?"

Kevin's wife, Pauline, managed to pull herself together to answer: "I drove the girls to school. At three-thirty I picked up Jackie since Trish had a soccer game -- my friend Laura dropped her off here around five. I put the girls to bed and then . . . " She trailed off, trying to maintain her composure.

"I know this is hard for you, Mrs. Elliot, but you have to help us out, okay?" Danny's voice was firm but gentle, reassuring. "When did you notice she was missing?"

"Around seven, when I went to wake the girls up. I called the police as soon as I saw it," Kevin answered grimly.

Martin finished jotting down their statements and rose from his chair. "Thank you for your cooperation. We'll be in touch."

"So, what do you think?" Martin asked eagerly as he and Danny exited the house and buttoned their coats to shut out the last of winter's remaining cold.

"I think we should wait until we have suspects and evidence to back up a theory," Danny replied shortly, to Martin's surprise. Noticing the silence he received as they walked to the car, he added, "Sorry, I've just been kind of stressed lately."

His partner shook his head. "It's not a problem. Do you want to drive?"

Shaking his head, Danny looked anxiously at his watch. "Actually, uh, I've gotta check on something. Can I meet you back at the office in a half hour or so? I can take a cab."

"Sure. See you later."

-

"So what were _you _like in school?" Jack asked Vivian as they made their way down the poster-lined hallway of Green Groves Elementary School, hoping to take her mind off the case.

"Bookworm," she answered. Noticing the smirk on his face, she added, "What? I doubt you were any better."

"No, not really," he agreed as they reached the principal's office. The window outside the office was covered in green construction paper leaves attached to a thin brown trunk of brown paper. Each child had scrawled something on their leaf in order to celebrate the fact that spring was upon them, and Vivian smiled sadly as she remembered the last two cases -- the victims had gone to schools similar to Green Groves, and the decorations hung in the school were, for the most part, the same.

"Can I help you?" the secretary asked, hastily pushing aside the romance novel she had been reading.

Jack flashed his badge at her. "I'm Jack Malone, FBI. This is Special Agent Johnson." Vivian nodded at the receptionist. "Would you mind if we had a word with the principal of the school?"

"Hold on, I'll go get him." She said, rising and entering a room to the side, returning a minute later with Mr. Coppel. His dark hair and broad shoulders somehow made him look more like an athlete than an elementary school principal, and Jack looked at him with interest. Had he not met him here, he would have believed Samuel Coppel was one of the slick, smooth lawyers that angry clients often let loose on the FBI.

His attention was quickly drawn to Vivian as she broke the silence by repeating the same introductions Jack had made a few moments ago. "Would you mind if we had a word in private?" she added.

"Certainly," Samuel replied nervously, leading them into his office.

As soon as they were settled in front of Mr. Coppel's desk, Jack began to speak. "Mr. Coppel, we're here about Tricia Elliot."

"I assumed as much. Let me assure you, nothing of this magnitude has ever happened at Green Grove before, and we were in no way involved with her disappearance -- "

Jack nearly smirked. This guy was turning into a lawyer before his very eyes, but he guessed that now more than ever you had to be on your toes if you were going to be in the education field.

"We're here to inquire about the missing student, sir, not tarnish the reputation of this school." Vivian interrupted firmly, with an edge of sarcasm to her voice.

"I'm just protecting my investments. Do you know how hard it is to get a school like this up and keep it running?" Samuel replied stonily, a challenging look in his eyes.

Noting his partner's gritted teeth, Jack turned the principal's attention away from Vivian. "What is Tricia like in school?"

Relieved at the change of subject, Mr. Coppel replied, "She is a good student. Very active in her class, has lots of friends. She is on the soccer team, I think. If you want to know more you'll want to check with her teacher and her coach -- Ms. Barbara Reed and Mr. Edward Winters."

"We will." Jack finished copying down the names on his notepad before continuing. "Did either of them report any unusual behavior from Tricia recently?"

Samuel shook his head. "No, nothing like that. They only would have told me if it had been very serious, though. Otherwise they simply would have called home or taken it up with the guidance counselor."

Jack nodded and rose, placing his notepad in his pocket. "Thanks for your cooperation. We'll be in touch." He and Vivian exited the office, heading towards the front of the school.

"A student is _missing _and all he can think about are his 'investments'?" Vivian snorted. "Give me a _break_. What an asshole."

"Calm down." Jack replied. "We'll split up for now -- you take the teacher, I'll get the soccer coach. Meet you back here when we're done." Words of caution to stay calm nearly forced their way out of his mouth, but he managed to fight the urge to talk down to his partner. After all, Vivian was . . . well, Vivian. She was the only one on the team who could keep her head in a tough situation, and when she lost it the effects it had on the team were never good.

Glancing briefly at his watch, he headed off to the next interview.

-

"You look like you're having fun," Martin observed as he entered the office, promptly settling in his chair and kicking his feet up on his desk.

Samantha tore her eyes away from the endless words and numbers that were scrolling down the screen for a moment to look at her co-worker, than turned back. "Well, someone has to do it." Trying to maintain an optimistic attitude, she had to struggle to keep from voicing her true thoughts: _This. Sucks. _

"True," Martin agreed. "Find anything good yet?"

"All of the victims were girls ages six to eight. All came from middle-class families, went to good schools, and were straight-A students. The similarities end there."

He furrowed his brow. "So maybe we're not looking for a serial killer?"

"Try telling that to Viv."

"Yeah." He swung his feet down from the desk and ran his hand through his hair nervously before speaking: "You know, I could maybe help you with the workload or something. You know, help look in the files if you wanted any help . . . is there a certain one you want pulled up or something?" He didn't intend for his voice to come across as so nervous, but that was what happened when he was with Sam.

Facing the screen so Martin could not see the grin that was forming on her face, Sam smoothly took advantage of his offer. "Yeah, sure. Just search through the other cases, cross-reference people, look for general similarities, and pray for a hit."

"OK," he said before beginning to type.

They sat in awkward silence for a few more moments before Jack and Vivian came bustling in. "Hey, how'd the interviews go?" Sam asked, grateful for a diversion from her current task.

"Principal's a prick and everyone else is clueless." Vivian responded cynically.

"The teacher and coach say there was nothing strange going on -- everything was all right at home, she was doing great in school . . . " Jack paused. "Something doesn't seem right here. I don't think whoever did this was also tied to the other cases."

Trying to gently break the news to Vivian, who seemed taken aback at the possibility, Sam said, "I haven't found any similarities between the cases."

Viv sighed and sat down next to where Jack had taken a seat only a moment ago. "Well, I guess it's plausible that they aren't related." She admitted.

"Hey, guys?" Martin piped up, and all eyes in the room turned to him. "I think I found a link between the cases."

Sam groaned. "In what, five minutes? I've been doing this all afternoon, and -- "

Martin interrupted her before she could complain any more. "An Edward Winters lived in all three towns and coached soccer at either the schools of or surrounding the schools of the missing children."

Jack rose to his feet. "Let's go back and have another talk with Ed, shall we?"

As Vivian pulled on her coat and began heading downstairs, Sam also rose. "Jack, I've been pulling files all day. Can't I at least come help you with this?"

He hesitated for a brief moment. It was only an interview, and she would be with him and Vivian. She would be safer here, pulling files, but he couldn't deny her field work forever -- and besides, he knew she would defy him and his reasons to keep her in the office until the very end. His tone was gruff as he grudgingly answered her question. "Yeah."

He grabbed his coat and headed out the door as Sam followed.

* * *


	3. Chapter Three

Once again, thanks to **illman** for betaing.

-**__**

The sun was beginning to make its slow descent down the sky, lighting the soccer field with a purplish haze. Amidst scattered applause from the parents welcoming their children off the field, Vivian, Sam, and Jack stepped out of the car and strolled up to the center of the playing field.

"Okay, next week we're here at seven-thirty," a middle-aged, mousy man was announcing to the one of the teams beginning to depart from the field. "Don't forget to bring your registration forms for the upcoming tournament!"

"Mr. Winters?" Sam asked as she approached the man. "I'm Samantha Spade, FBI. These are my fellow agents Jack Malone and Vivian Johnson."

Ed put his clipboard down by his bags as he looked at the three agents nervously. "What can I do for you?" He was a small, skinny man, a whistle dangling from his neck.

"This has to do with the disappearance of one of your players." Jack began. "I'm sure you heard about Trish Eliot."

"Yeah." Edward nodded.

Vivian broke into the conversation, her tone cold and impersonal, unlike the more congenial tones Jack and Sam had been using. "In the time span of six years, you've moved three times. Each of the towns you lived in previously had a kidnapping almost identical to this one. Both times the girls ended up dead, and now it's happened a third time."

Edward shifted his weight from one foot to the next uncomfortably. "That's a very remarkable coincidence," he finally stammered.

"Coincidence?" Vivian asked incredulously. "That's not going to stand up well in court, Mr. Winters. Do you have another explanation for this?"

His face was draining of color as he glanced around nervously, wringing his hands as he struggled to find words. Eventually he decided upon: "Do I need to get a lawyer or something?"

"You're not under arrest," Sam reassured him sternly. "We'd just like to take you with us to ask you some questions, all right?"

Jack and Sam led him to the car as Vivian followed, casting a lingering glance at the soccer field before catching up with them again.

-

Danny was on his third cup of coffee, trying desperately to rid his face from the dark lines underneath his eyes.

"Trying to beat Martin's record?" Sam quipped as she entered the office.

"Huh?" was all he could manage to say, snapped out of his sleep-deprived daze.

Sam smiled as she approached him and leaned back on his desk, next to his computer. "You seen how much coffee Martin drinks in one day? You look as if you're trying to drink more than him." Her smile faded as she noticed Danny's tiredness, the look of sleeplessness that was apparent on his face. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah." He sighed. "I haven't been getting much sleep lately, that's all." Running his fingers through his hair, he was surprised when Sam placed her hand on his shoulder.

"If you need anything, you can call me, you know, right?" she said reassuringly, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly.

He smiled. "Yeah." Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "Thanks."

She stayed there for a moment longer after she removed her hand from his shoulder, and then gathered up the folder she had come for before heading towards the interrogation room.

-

"I watch all those cop shows." Ed was saying as Sam walked into the room, casting Jack an apologetic look as she handed him the folder and sat down. "I know my rights. I want a lawyer." His body language indicated nervousness, his fingers restlessly intertwining with each other as he fidgeted in his seat.

Vivian sighed, annoyed. "We called him, Mr. Winters. He's on his way."

Sam tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and leaned forward. "Ed?"

Upon hearing her voice, he looked up briefly. Confident, she continued: "We just want to ask you a few questions, all right? You've seen cop shows. We don't have any evidence against you that will hold up in court right now. So why not let us eliminate you as a suspect by helping us?"

Edward opened his mouth briefly before shutting it. "I, um . . . sure." Then, after a brief pause, he added, "But not a lot. I want a lawyer before I -- "

Raising his hand to keep the suspect from repeating the phrase that was going to make him lose it in a minute, Jack wearily sighed, "Yes, we _know_." He was actually beginning to look forward to the lawyer's arrival, even if most attorneys were a pain.

Sam's face lit up with the phoniest smile Jack had seen all day. "Thank you for your cooperation." Pausing to regain her composure, she folded her hands and placed them in front of her as she leaned forward a bit more. "So did you know the other girls who had been kidnapped from those other towns?"

"Yeah." Breaking under Vivian's long gaze, he hesitantly added more. "They were on my soccer teams. Good kids. I think Camilla was goalie and Katie played defense."

"And Trish?" Sam asked, hoping to make him more comfortable so he would keep talking. She was trying to use the 'more flies with honey' tactic that worked well with more fragile, nervous suspects in interrogations, unlike Jack's preferred method of bludgeoning them with rapid-fire questions. She hoped he wouldn't interfere now, as she wanted to keep from unnerving Edward.

"She was defense, too." His nervous air was beginning to dissipate as he became more comfortable. "There's going to be a tournament in a few weeks, she was really psyched about that."

"And you don't have any contact with her outside of practices and games?" Vivian asked, less harshly than she had been before.

Edward nodded, puzzled. "I live on the other side of town. I have another job, you know. I work at the bank on West Chestnut Street. I used to coach because my son was on the team, but after he left it was too much fun to give up."

"Have there been any suspicious people hanging around the field lately?" Jack inquired.

Shaking his head, Ed replied, "No."

"Has Trish been acting strangely lately?" Sam asked gently. "Has she been anxious, worried, depressed? Anything like that?"

Again, he shook his head. "No, she was fine."

"Was?" Jack practically pounced on Edward, as Sam mentally chastised herself for not replying to that before Jack could. Noting Ed's confused look, Jack stood up and walked around the table. Face-to-face with the soccer coach, he continued. "You've been saying 'was'. That would imply that she is no longer alive." Raising his eyebrows, he locked eyes with the silent suspect and very quietly asked, "Is there something you're not telling us?"

The mildly threatening way in which the question was delivered completely unnerved Edward, who sat silently, fishing for words and coming up with none. Jack continued to hold his gaze on Ed, one that was broken only when the door opened loudly.

"Don't say anything else to them, Ed," the lawyer commanded. As Jack stood up and backed away from his position where he had been cornering Edward, the lawyer continued, "What is going on here? If I find anything has been going on here you can expect to find _several _harassment forms sitting on your desk by tomorrow morning -- "

"It's all right," Edward interrupted. "I'd just like to go home." As he rose to his feet, Sam gave him a faltering smile. _Shit. We had him. _

The lawyer gave Jack a glare that implied several more meetings under unpleasant circumstances as he escorted Edward out of the interrogation room. Vivian swore under her breath as the door clicked shut and soon headed out of the room herself, wordlessly.

"We had him," Sam muttered as she buried her head in her hands, frustrated.

"It's not my fault," Jack responded somewhat stubbornly as he sank into the empty chair previously occupied by Edward Winters.

Sam sighed. "If you had let me continue, we would have had him still here with us. I was doing great, Jack."

He turned to face her. "There are others ways of finding out information, you know. I was taking advantage of the situation, and if that lawyer hadn't walked in we would have had an answer from him. You have to do that in cases like this."

"If I hadn't intervened, you wouldn't have gotten anything out of him at all," she said fiercely, staring at him.

"All I'm saying is . . . maybe for once you could have tried a different approach."

"Like what?" Sam demanded.

He shrugged. "Do you have to . . . " He struggled with his choice of words for a moment as Sam gazed at him expectantly. "Do you have to seduce every suspect we get in here?" he finally asked.

She uttered a short, joyless laugh. "I don't _seduce _them. _Manipulate_, maybe, but seduce?"

"It's not protocol."

"Neither is your approach, Jack. Please don't be a hypocrite," she replied defiantly before standing up and exiting. He thought he could hear a faint undertone of hurt somewhere, but she was gone before he could even apologize. Silently he chastised himself for allowing his jealousy and anger to blind him from the fact that she had hardly done anything wrong, and then he leaned back in his chair, alone in the interrogation room.

-

She hated getting attached to cases. It seemed so unprofessional and amateur to get so distraught over another murder, another disappearance, when it was easier to accept the facts and move on to another case. There was no point in getting hung up about something in the past when it wouldn't happen again, because the guy who did it was behind bars.

But serial killing -- it made her feel so powerless against those arrogant criminals, who toyed with her and her team as they struggled to piece together clues that would amount to nothing in the end. Only another destroyed family and the sense of dread that gnawed continually in the pit of her stomach as she waited for him to strike again.

Sitting on the bench by the river, Vivian quietly watched the water wash up against the shore and then back, ebbing and flowing in a graceful, continuous motion. A perfect cycle, one that remained beautiful while uninterrupted. The moonlight cast an eerie glow on the water as she casually she tossed a stone onto the water's surface, watching it skip twice before sinking. The ripples spread from the point at which the stone had sunk to the river's edge, where the tide became confused and washed randomly against the bank in a sloppy, uncontrolled fashion.

It took her a moment to realize that skipping stones wasn't going to help the Elliot family at a time like this. Standing, she wrapped her coat more tightly around her and began to head back home.

* * *


	4. Chapter Four

Unbeta'd because my new beta, **babythunder**, is currently unavailable. So hopefully you'll still enjoy this. Same disclaimer applies; I don't own or am in any way affiliated with the show or Jerry Bruckheimer. Concrit greatly appreciated, as always.

-

-

-

"Well," Martin said, "I guess we're out of suspects."

Sam glared at him from across the room where she was sitting at her desk, searching through phone records, not quite sure exactly what she was looking for.

"There has to be someone else," Vivian insisted, squinting against the harsh blue light emanating from her computer screen as she scrolled past endless lists of names and numbers, looking for something -- anything -- that could help them get any closer to Tricia Elliot. With every second that ticked by on the clock next to her, a knot formed deep in the pit of her stomach; reminding her that time was running out with every lead that proved to be a dead end.

"Hey." Jack greeted his team as he walked in, gazing expectantly at them. "Where's Danny?"

Martin shrugged. "He took off after we interviewed the parents. Said it was important and he'd come back later."

Jack nodded uneasily. "Sam, you find anything yet?"

"No," She answered curtly; avoiding any eye contact with him as she turned back to face the phone records once more.

"Jack?" Vivian asked. "Is Mr. Winters married?"

Quickly he opened the file he was holding and flipped to the page on Edward Winters. "No," he began, scanning the page, "but he is divorced. He has a fourteen-year-old son who lives with his mom."

"Where do they live?" Vivian asked, almost urgently, impatiently. The clock was moving too fast, almost mocking her, and everything else seemed like it was moving too slowly.

Jack looked up at her. "Just across town. Her name is Marjorie Winters."

Fingers flying, Vivian entered the name of his wife into the database and pulled up her information in a window next to Edward's. Turning back to face her boss, she explained, "Marjorie Winters lived in the same three towns as Edward, but at different times. According to this, she moved to the next town just weeks before he followed. And this is when they're divorced."

"He's stalking her?" Sam asked. "That still doesn't rule him out as a suspect in this case, though."

Martin leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap. "Maybe she kidnapped those girls to frame him and get him off her back."

Sam frowned, furrowing her brow as she looked at Martin. "That's a little far-fetched, don't you think?"

Martin shrugged. Jack interrupted, "Sam, Viv, you come with me to Mr. Winter's. Martin, swing by Danny's and pick him up -- we'll meet you at Ed's."

--

Martin knocked, two sharp raps on the door that resounded in his ears and seemed to echo in the empty hallway. "It's me, Martin." He called when there was no answer.

Eventually the doorknob began to turn uncertainly, and he was gazing into the face of a woman, her eyes dull and dark, resting in the hollow cavities of her sunken, pinched face. He felt a chill when he made eye contact with her and quickly turned away after he did, feeling a pang of guilt much like the one he felt when he passed by beggars on the street without giving them money -- guilt caused by the knowledge that he should somehow help them, although he didn't know how.

Quickly she was pushed to the side -- gently, but still hurriedly -- and Danny's face was peering inquisitively at him. "Hey, Martin." He paused as Martin stood in the hallway awkwardly and he leaned against the doorjamb, the door still closed as to prevent Martin from seeing inside. "What's up?"

"Jack sent me here. He wanted me to pick you up and bring you over to Ed's, since there's been a break in the case . . . " He trailed off, shrugging his shoulders in what he hoped was an explanatory gesture. Reflexively he strained his eyes to see beyond Danny's head and into the apartment, catching himself moments later and stopping.

Danny sighed, and then pushed the door open. "You may as well come in."

Martin stepped into the apartment, uncomfortable in his surroundings. Half of the apartment was immaculate -- the magazines in the corner were stacked neatly and even placed in chronological order; the pillows on the sofa were carefully placed so as to look casually tossed while still giving the room an aura of comfort. On the wall was a calendar covered in streaks of blue ink, and in front of the hall closet every shoe was lined up with its match in a single, straight line.

But the sink was piled high with dirty dishes and the bathroom looked disheveled, as if a hurricane had raged through that room and missed the rest of the apartment. The second couch, parallel to the one with the throw pillows, was wrinkled and covered in blankets, currently inhabited by the woman who had previously opened the door for Martin.

"So." He said finally, shoving his hands in his pockets and feeling painfully out-of-place.

Danny shrugged in a gesture he hoped came across as nonchalant. "This is my sister, Estrella Alvarez." He watched as Martin cautiously shook hands with her, his strong hands enveloping her frail ones, and then continued: "Well. I guess we'd better be going."

Danny kissed Estrella on the cheek lightly and whispered something to her in Spanish. Then, as he turned to Martin, he appeared to be back to normal -- more energetic and good-humored, motioning towards the door as they walked out of the apartment.

--

"Mr. Winters?" Jack called, standing on the doorstep of a tiny house tucked away in the corner of a forgotten suburb, faded street signs pointing them in the direction of the home overrun with vines. A bundle of mail was stuffed awkwardly in the mailbox, envelopes of all colors sticking out in all directions. Some coupons and letters had fallen to the ground and littered the porch, lying next to the flowerpots that housed nothing but weeds and a small, faded American flag.

"Mr. Winters." Vivian repeated, exasperated.

Sam fidgeted, glancing at the sides of the house from her stance on the porch's step. "His car's here," she pointed out, smiling at the sight of the spotless black automobile amidst the brown, wilted vegetation of the lawn.

Jack knocked once more before pushing the door open. Silently the soles of his feet trod the beige carpet, which was covered in places with newspapers or magazines. The foyer lights were off and shadows fell over the hallway, making the light at the end of the path all the more prominent. Vivian and Sam followed closely behind as he opened the door to the kitchen.

Edward leapt up from his chair and stood behind the table as the agents filtered in. "Hey! Hey -- Don't you need a warrant to come in here?"

"Technically, yes. But we're not searching, we're just -- "

Edward's face fell as sudden realization dawned upon him. "Are you going to arrest me?"

"We just want to _talk_." Vivian repeated for what she felt was the thousandth time. Weariness overcame her, as the sleepless nights she had been spending finally seemed to catch up to her and she had to fight the urge to lie down and just give up already.

"No," he replied, becoming more frantic. "That's what you said last time." Jack had positioned himself so that he was next to Edward, while Sam and Vivian covered their sides of the kitchen.

Sam smiled at him reassuringly. "And nothing happened then, did it?"

Edward's eyes were darting from agent to agent, desperately searching for something. Quickly he reached behind him and pulled a gun out of his back pocket, holding it straight in front of him at Jack. His grip on the revolver was tight as his arms stayed remarkably steady, keeping the gun facing the man next to him.

Their eyes locked as Edward's eyes became less panicked and more focused, almost predatory. A low chill ran down Jack's spine as he heard a click from the doorway.

"Hello?"

Upon hearing Martin's voice, the spell that had kept Edward calm for so long seemed to shatter as he flinched and jerked the gun to his right, accidentally pulling the trigger and fragmentizing a glass vase that had been resting on the tabletop. The dark water that had been resting in the bottom of the container spilled over the front of Sam's shoes as it fell to the floor with an alarming crash. Jack breathed a barely audible sigh of relief, not permitting himself to see how close the bullet had come to Samantha.

From the other side of the room Vivian used her steadiest, calming tone. "Mr. Winters, why don't you put the gun down?"

Danny and Martin entered the kitchen as Martin surveyed the scenario: Vivian to the left of the table and Sam to the right, with Edward and Jack at gunpoint behind it. His mind raced to think of how he could handle this while sticking to protocol, but his many nights of studying and memorization all seemed worthless now -- he drew blanks whenever he tried to recall a certain procedure or technique that would help now.

"You think I did it." Edward swallowed hard, his hands beginning to tremble slightly. "I can't go to jail for something I didn't do."

Martin moved forward a little bit as he made eye contact with Vivian and attempted to silently communicate with her. "Well, holding our boss at gunpoint isn't likely to solve this, either. If you put the gun down, we can discuss this."

Suddenly the gun was thrust in Martin's direction, and a rush of fear shot through him. Edward's eyes were glinting and his arms even steadier than before, while Martin was beginning to tremble involuntary.

"Mr. Winters." Commanding his voice to stay flat, he raised one quivering hand in Edward's direction.

Jack looked at Vivian as Edward's finger tightened around the trigger.

And then Jack saw his opportunity -- Ed shifted his balance from foot to foot ever so slightly and left a gap where he was not focused entirely on Martin. Lunging with one hand for the gun and one for Edward's back, Jack shoved him hard to the right as his finger slipped.

The sound of the gunshot filled the kitchen before a body hit the floor.

* * *


	5. Chapter Five

_Pleasepleasepleaseletitnotbeherplease _

He felt the guilt surge through him as the thought ran through his mind. Someone from his team had just been shot and all he cared about was whether Sam was the one who had been injured -- everyone on his team, he knew, would lay their life down on the line for Jack and he was dismissing that fact so he could concentrate on the one he loved the most. Was he really such a cold, heartless bastard?

He didn't dare move, lying on top of the shaking Edward on the linoleum floor. The sounds of breathing were prominent in his ears; his heavy gasps mixed with Edward's raspy sob as the scuffle in the background provided a backdrop for their tragic scene.

Slowly he stood, pulling Edward up with him. Facing the cabinets, his head turned away from the chaos, he grabbed the handcuffs from his waist and fastened them to Edward's hands. Then he pulled out a chair from the table and pushed the man down into it, his mind racing, clouded with his fear and unwillingness to turn around.

When he knew he couldn't delay it any longer he turned and braced himself for what he would see.

As soon as he took in the results, it felt as though he had been watching a television show that was muted. When his eyes fell on the floor everything clicked -- Vivian talking frantically on the phone, trying to get an ambulance, Martin holding a bloodied washcloth in his trembling hands, uncertain how to help. And then Sam was down on the floor, he realized, and his stomach plummeted with the sickening feeling the eerie sense of déjà vu brought on.

Then he realized she was kneeling down by Danny, applying pressure to the wound in his chest as he sat trying to breathe.

The room was suddenly bathed in red from outside, filling in the spots of the room that weren't already red with blood as the sounds of sirens from the ambulance made their way into the room, the harsh rays of the lights filtering through the blinds on the front door and piercing their vision. Two paramedics broke through the door with a stretcher and lifted Danny onto it as Sam moved backwards, standing by the wall as she wrung her hands nervously.

Vivian took Edward out, gripping the suspect by the arm tightly as his face stared straight ahead into the blaring lights, tears silently falling down his face as his mouth formed faint outlines of words without ever uttering a sound.

Jack walked over to the pantry where she was standing, her eyes dry and vacant. Quietly he put his hands over hers and was astonished to find them wet, and his hands were stained red when he pulled them back. Her eyes broke away from his gaze, turning to look at the ground. The linoleum had been immaculate and white, with only minor marks from dirt and scuffs from boots, but now there were droplets of blood staining it, wide and conspicuous against a blank background.

He wanted to pull her chin over back again to face him, but his hands were covered in red, same as hers. He let his hands drop to his sides as he exited wordlessly, stepping out of the house as chaos raged on. Sirens blared and people were shouting to each other, pushing Danny into the back of the ambulance while Jack suddenly wished he could be back in the shelter of the house, where the panic was muted and he could think clearly.

"Jack?" Vivian asked, tapping his shoulder. "We should get to the hospital."

Behind them, Sam made her exit, entering the car and letting her hands rest on the steering wheel. On first glance they were clean, but further inspection revealed that there was still crusted blood under her fingernails, outlining the tips of her fingers. She had scrubbed them as hard as she could, but it would not remove itself from her.

Quietly Vivian, Jack and Martin slipped into the car, and they headed off to the hospital in silence.

--

The chairs were plastic and hard and uncomfortable, which was why Jack was pacing. Sam was sitting with her elbows placed on her knees and her face cradled in her hands, while Martin had his back straight up against the chair, still in a state of shock. Vivian was quietly murmuring into the pay phone as an uneasy silence had overcome the waiting area. The chair in the corner was inhabited by a disheveled Estrella.

For the waiting room of a hospital, it was unnaturally empty. The doctors and nurses rushing down the hallways, striding down the cold tile with long, purposeful steps, were always silent. It was unnerving, watching such panic take place in nearly complete quiet.

Eventually a doctor approached them and informed them that kin could go in and see Danny, but he was still on medication and would be a little groggy. Estrella left to go sit by him, and Jack didn't move. His eyes went in and out of focus as the hands on the clock moved without him even realizing it.

The blaring, garish sounds of Jack's cell phone penetrated the calm that had enveloped the team. "Malone," he answered, his voice sounding alien and distant to him.

Vivian watched him nod grimly as a sense of deepening dread began to grow in the pit of her stomach, until he finally shut his phone and spoke.

"That was the search party. They found a body."

* * *


	6. Chapter Six

Huge thanks to **babythunder** for doing an awesome job of betaing, and helping out so much with the fic. And now, for the end of this fic (yay!).

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She looked down at the body as her heart sank. "That's not Trish," Vivian declared.

Jack sighed. "Can I have a word?" He grasped Vivian by the arm and led her off to the side, away from the sirens and the yellow tape and the chaos. She looked irritated, but the lines in her face were worn and haggard. She was beginning to break as her vulnerability began to show through.

"We're out of leads," he began gently. "We might be able to make a case against Edward, but if he has an alibi, we're done for."

"There has to be something else," she began, insistent and stubborn. "What about more searches and -- "

"Viv." He commanded her attention and she broke off. "We've already spent a week or so on this case. There are other people out there that need our help. Giving up on six other people only to find one dead body is not going to do anything."

She knew he was right. The minute she had received the casefile, something inside her had told her that Tricia, like the others, would never be found alive. What she had never figured upon was not finding her at all. Desperately, she searched for words, an excuse, something that would help the Elliots, but nothing came.

"Jack," she said. "Please."

"Go home." He said it kindly. "You can run her prints every week, you can keep looking. But we need to find others in the meantime."

But she had admitted defeat already and only stood there in silence as he walked back to the crime scene.

-

"And make sure he gets plenty of rest."

As the nurse left, Danny breathed a sigh of relief. "I hate hospitals. Let's get out of here."

Sam wheeled him down the hall and into the elevator, pushing the button for the lobby. "I told you getting shot wasn't all it was cracked up to be."

"Next time I'll listen." He grinned.

They continued to talk on their way to the car and to the apartment. "Are you sure you don't need anything?" she asked.

"I'm fine. You go and get some rest, too." As Estrella appeared and they hugged, he closed the door behind him and Sam was alone in the hallway.

Sighing, she took her cell phone out of her pocket and pushed the first speed dial button. A moment later, she was speaking into the voicemail.

"Um, hey, Jack, it's me. I just wanted to know if maybe you wanted to grab a bite to eat or something tomorrow or later this week or whenever's good for you." The old rush she used to feel when she talked to him -- when they talked more about things other than cases -- came back as her words became more awkward and her voice stuttered occasionally. When she hung up, she smiled to herself, and then drove off just as it began to rain.

-

"Hey, baby," Marcus greeted a soaking Vivian at the door. "Are you all right? It's midnight, I was worried about you."

"I'm fine," she sighed, hanging up her coat and sinking down into the couch.

He sat down beside her and placed an arm around her shoulder. "Reggie and I already ate, but we saved some leftovers if you want me to nuke 'em."

She shook her head, feeling the rain drip beneath her collar and run down her back, sending a shiver down her spine. "We had to stop looking for her."

His face turned from cheerful to melancholy as he pulled Vivian into an embrace. "It's okay, I'm sure she'll turn up eventually."

She knew better, but she was frustrated at him as well as everyone else for being so ignorant. "She won't just turn up, Marcus, she's not a remote control or a lost pet."

Regaining control of her anger, she added softly, "I just don't know what to say to the parents. How am I going to tell them that we can't look for their daughter anymore?"

He didn't respond, just pulled her closer.

-

"Hey, Sam, it's me." Jack inhaled sharply as he stood in the rain outside of a small café where they used to sit and eat and talk together, it's lights still bright despite the late hour. "Are you still up for that coffee?"

He waited for her reply and smiled. "Okay, then, I'll meet you at the café in a couple of minutes. There are these dreams I've been having . . . well, I've just been wanting to talk to you for a while now about a lot of things."

-fin

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